


Slipping on Ice

by YaminoTenshi202



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Flashbacks, From Childhood to Adulthood, Gen, The whole thing is a flashback
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 13:35:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaminoTenshi202/pseuds/YaminoTenshi202
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I looked up at Thor and the Allfather, who held onto the platform to the Rainbow Bridge, I felt the metal staff slip from my fingers. Nothing would let me forget the first time that it had happened, the frightening feel of something slipping from my grasp. I would not fight it now…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slipping on Ice

**Author's Note:**

> My friend Onyxya (on tumblr) got a request for a Loki fic. She requested some help, as I seem to have an affinity for writing villains with sad back-stories. Here is the result.
> 
> We were originally leaning towards a Thor/Loki fic, but then we were informed that she did not ship it. There are still traces of it though; not enough to confirm it.

I looked up at Thor and the Allfather, who held onto the platform to the Rainbow Bridge, I felt the metal staff slip from my fingers. Nothing would let me forget the first time that it had happened, the frightening feel of something slipping from my grasp. I would not fight it now…

* * *

My fingers first clasped at my mother’s brooch, her arms cradling me ever so gently, as though I was indeed precious. Her hazel eyes gazed down at me and she began to sing sweet nothings to me. Suddenly there’s a loud noise, gyrating against my ears, painful. I cannot speak and I sob, wailing in discomfort. My fingers slip from the metal.

“Ma!” A boy with gold hair comes in Father’s arms and his aura is so comforting, I quiet myself. Yes, I wanted comfort and now I have it. I am content. His hands, bigger than my own, but just as soft and chubby, come toward me. He patted my cheeks and he hummed some nonsensical tune.

“This is your brother, Thor,” Mother says softly. “His name is Loki.”

Thor smiles as Father speaks. “He is your friend and you must keep him company, all right?”

“Yes!”

We never knew what their words meant. We only focused on each other when we were laid down on the fur on the floor, tugging at each other’s fingers. We were the only ones that existed, his lips giving kisses to my cheeks and my lips wet by my tongue, pressing the wettest imitations of kisses to his own cheeks. His golden hair hung over my face, Mother and Father not wanting to cut his hair, a dear symbol of his strength as I later learned, and it tickled my nose. It smelled like flowers, fragrant oils in the strands and leaving small bits of residue on my cheeks.

Thor lay down next to me after, making me pout. Why in Asgard would Thor move away? Instead of giving in to my pouts, he pressed another kiss to my head and began to sing a song to me, words of the Ancients I was later told, a song of magic and the Old Heroes that he loved to listen about, his role models. Magicians and heroes fighting together and saving the worlds, all Nine realms.

It was a song that he wrote for me.

* * *

As we grew, he continued to care for me and keep me company. Thor gained more companions, though, ones that accepted me into their group. Their stares troubled me, as though they thought I was different. Thor treated me like everyone else, or rather, he favored me above all others. He would make sure that he grabbed my sparring staff from its place on the highest case; that I always was included in a game that he held with his friends, though he made sure not to go easy on me when he sparred.

“Brother, don’t go easy on me! I don’t on you!” He laughed during one particular day, my body pinned underneath him as we wrestled, my face against the stone floor. The Warriors Three were small, but still every bit as prideful as they would one day be in their adult years, and they would tease me for my size, my lack of muscle. Thor would go on to be a great Warrior, leader against any Evil that would dare threaten us. He would be a wondrous King, the Three said, with a most gorgeous Queen… and he would forget about us.

No! I would one day be strong like Thor! He would never leave me then, being my constant companion, and we would do such great things together… He would not leave me. Surely… He was my company!

“… Brother?” Tears burned at the corners of my eyes and I made a choking sound in the back of my throat, like I had something in my throat that was swelling, making me slowly unable to breathe. He pulled away from me and knelt down beside me. His eyes looked down curiously at me, wondering why I was sobbing, silently, my face pressed against the cold, unforgiving stone of this training room.

“Loki, dear brother, what’s wrong?” His fingers threaded themselves through my black tresses, little whispers of comfort passing his lips. He knew I needed my silence, and that was truly why I loved him so. He understood me, better than anyone else, even the Mother that birthed us both. Thor was mine, my dearest Brother, and he would not leave me. Never. I let the tears fall, feeling so foolish. The stupid Three and their tricks, making me doubt Thor.

“Brother, I’m here. Do not weep…” I nodded, sitting up and bringing my legs underneath me. I sat on my legs, my knees against the floor. He came close and pressed a kiss to my forehead. I leaned against him and embraced him. Any bit of crisis that was welling inside my chest, my choking throat, my now hurting stomach from the force of my weeping, was swept away.

Thor smiled at that, returning the hug, and began to sing the same song that he had written for me, such a long time ago.

“Don’t leave me, please. Don’t leave me, Brother.” He chuckled and paused his singing.

“Not even Hel could stop me.”

* * *

More sparring accompanied the extended studies that we had obligation to. Father stressed to me the importance of justice and balance, just as Thor was stressed with the importance of casting judgement and strength.

Every punch was accompanied with hesitance, but not as much as we engaged them with in our younger days. We knew each other’s limits, and in this way, we could not hurt each other to the point of drastic frailty.

Tumbling to the ground on this day, Thor, his smile bright with his victory, laughed with mirth. He stretched out a hand to me, as to help me stand, and I grasped it, my body burning from the energy being used.

“Your strength is becoming even greater, Brother. Henceforth, I will not be able to match it.” I smiled wanly at him, praising him. I held some resentment, however. One day, he would leave my side… And I would no longer be needing of his protection.

“And your wit surpasses my own; it always has. You should not dismiss it as an unworthy attribute, Loki. It is an advantage, especially in battle. Wit fights battles alongside strength, which is why you are as worthy of glory as I am.” His blue eyes met mine and he came to kiss me again, his lips against my cheek. These gestures, this affection he shows me… Is it real?

Or is it only given to me because Father conditioned Thor to do so?  
  


* * *

I saw him with her, the lady Sif. She is quite strong, as the women of our world, our Asgard, are often trained in the arts and domestics.

She breaks all folkways and it burns me. Why does she, a harlot without a shred of decency of a woman, enthrall Thor, the Almighty son of Odin, my Brother?

She tempted him, most likely. Father once spoke of Mother in such the ways that Thor talks of Sif.

We were only children, my young body only a year weaned off of Mother’s milk. Thor gripped my hand tightly, my toddling not as steady as I desired, my gait wide and uneasy. Father was walking with us, speaking of how he met the young Frigga, our Mother.

“Her body was of palest stone, such that it imitates the moon in its beauty. Her eyes, like her name, are the rarest sapphires.” Father smiled in memory, looking over the balcony down to the garden below. Thor pulled me gently - ever so gently - to look between the stone pillars supporting the balcony’s edge.

“Even now, your mother is the most lovely woman, the strongest I shall ever know. I love her dearly.”

“Love, Father?” Thor spoke my question for me, taking the query I had in my mind and voicing it. Love. What a strange word.

“It is the strongest of passions. It can create and destroy, give life and kill, give enlightenment and drive all into insanity.” He smiled. “My sons, one day you shall both find love. It will be your greatest strength and shall reveal your greatest weakness. You shall have each other, and your wives, and through all of it, you shall overcome any trial.”

I reached up to Father, toddling over to him and wanting of his warmth. He lifted me up into his hold, turning me so I could see Mother. Perhaps I understood, but she was so lovely that day.

Mother sat with Hlín, Gná, and Fulla, her dear attendants. She, the oldest of the four and the only wife, was telling them of all they needed to know for their future families. Her eyes were bright with the youth and strength…

…that I did not understand until now.  
Sif held the same alluring nature as Mother had to Father. She would be the one to take Thor away from me.

Away from me…

My heart panged and the thought suddenly seemed unbearable.

No woman had ever desired my company. On instances, I had disguised myself as a woman to see how the fairer sex lived, but it was so confusing to me… and painful, as I learnt with Sleipnir. Intelligence did not matter so much to them as strength, power, and tenacity. Gentleness was desired, but toughness was the greater good.

Such hypocrisy…

Yet Sif was like them in mind, but intelligent to be as any warrior among men. The greatest of Warriors, beneath my Brother…

Would he give kisses to her cheek?

Would he forget me?

* * *

Wouldn’t it be better if I was King?

The thought had never occurred to me before until Sif was recognised as a Warrior, a Woman amongst Women. Thor advocated her plea for testing to Father, whose judgement passed in her favour after Thor had professed her adequacy and perseverance. Why would a Woman, whose intelligence and wit might serve better on Council, be better a Warrior?

She, if ever lost in battle, would be abused, her body suffering such cruelties that befall the Fertile, the Small, the Meek… those capable of being Mothers.

Did Thor not know of the danger he put her in? I stared off into the distance during her celebration ceremony, focusing on the torches rather than the cheering faces. She, young and powerful, fire in her eyes, would fall back, be defeated, and would never be seen again.

Even if she would take Thor away from me, I would prefer that he not be driven into insanity with sorrow, anger, or jealousy.

“Wit fights battles alongside strength, which is why you are as worthy of glory as I am.”

Wit not only battles, Thor… It finds solutions that brutality cannot discover. The only problem is finding a way for Thor to not be King.

* * *

I hugged my body, striving for warmth. Only moments ago did I study in my chambers, reading deeper into the history of Yggdrasil. I read aloud, my voice echoing off of marble walls.

“An ash I know there stands,  
Yggdrasill is its name,  
a tall tree, showered  
with shining loam.  
From there come the dews  
that drop in the valleys.” [1]

Valleys? Valleys are often hidden by shadows. Perhaps there are shadows in the pathways between worlds? Heimdal had spoken of shadows before, parts of the universe that even he could not see.

I want to see those things, the shadows that no one dares to approach. I would be a King, the King of Asgard, once I could convince Father to allow me the burden.

“Please,” I whispered, as though the Great Tree would hear me. “Allow me, the youngest son of Odin, the privilege to see the Shadows, the secrets of the Tree of All.”

If I had known that the Tree would heed my call, I would have prepared myself. I blew against my hands, the wind making my bare skin numb.

I looked up to the sky. Its darkness loomed over me as I cast an “Uvitende” spell over my body. [2] Should Heimdall be alerted of my presence, I would be punished harshly. That would not be conducive to my plans.

My boots made tracks in the ice, sending chills up my spine. Father had told us stories of the Jötunns, beings of Frost who had waged war with us long ago. Was I in their realm?

“I see one of the guarded, one of the Allfather!”

I turned and large hands, ones that I recognized for the historical tomes, and Mother’s stories, grabbed my arms.

A Jötunn guard.

He took me to his King, Laufey. The creature’s eyes, deep red, glared down at me with animosity. I kept my head down, lest he recognised after I escaped…

If I escaped.

“Not so often does one of your people come here, to the wasteland your King gave graciously to us. Why are you here, Spellcaster?”

_“Mother? What are Jötunns like?” I had asked her in my early childhood. Thor grabbed a cloth animal, a Dragon, and sat next to me on the bed._

_“They are terrible,” she said gravely. “The King stole your Father’s eye.” She grabbed one of the Tomes off of a shelf, one of stories and tales. She turned through the pages and opened it wide. Blue skin, raised in some areas as though they were designed by an artist and dyed black, and red eyes were reflected back to us._

_“They took many of our resources and used it for dangerous attacks against us.” She talked of how families were slaughtered, children eaten, and our land being set aflame._

_“Let’s get rid of them then! Once and for all so they don’t hurt us again!” Thor proclaimed most zealously, gaining some cries of accordance from me._   
_“Silly boys.” Mother kissed our foreheads and laid us down, the comforters around us. “They have not come for many moons and harvests, now. Let us not be the ones who strike first, without provocation.”_

_Thor had reacted violently, bringing me in on his games… I would be hidden by that shadow, just like the lost sights of Heimdal, the darker sides of Yggdrasil._

“I… I come to seek assistance, and to grant aid.”

“… State your name.”

“My name is Hveðrungr, great Laufey.” [3]

“What shall you grant to us?”

“I offer access to Asgard.”

Cheers came around me. Pleads to go to battle against my father, to gain back the Tesseract.

Laufey raised a gnarled hand, misshapen slightly from age or perhaps it was the physiology of the Jötunns to have such rough skin.

“Take two of my soldiers. We seek to only to gain the Tesseract and restore our realm, Asgardian. Tell that to your King.”

I nodded and I vaguely remembered something, as I cast the same spell that I had cast on myself on the two Jötunns.  
I closed my eyes and begged to Yggdrasil silently.

Emerging in the lower chambers of the palace, I told them of the weapons vault, its location and protections. I might have left out one.

I ran in the other direction, running upstairs to slip into my room. I took one of the water pitchers that the servants left graciously in my room, pouring the clear liquid into a nearby bowl. Once to the desired level, I placed the pitcher down and placed my face in the water, letting warmth return to my flesh.

There I stayed, lifting my face to only catch my breath.

“Loki!”

I lifted my head up slowly, as to let the water roll off of my chin into the bowl. Sif knocked on my door and I beckoned her enter.

She smiled and offered me a towel that I had in a close drawer.

“Get dressed, my friend. The ceremony is going to begin.”

“Ah, yes. Of course. I shall be in the Hall shortly.”

She left and I smiled a bit to myself.

It was a prank, I told myself. All to ruin this day.To ruin my brother’s coronation day.

* * *

I turned to Thor, who was coming from one of the smaller mead halls, throwing his mug into a fire that decorated the floor. He strut across the floor, that air of confidence permeating the air that we breathed in.

I approached him, only taking a few steps to stand beside him, both of us turning to face the wide entrance halls to the main hall where the coronation would take place.

“Nervous, brother?” That question only brought a laugh of mirth and amusement from his lungs.

“Have you ever known me to be nervous?”

“Well, there was that one time in Neuenheim-”

“Euh, that was not nerves, brother.” He spoke as though he was reassuring me of this, that he, the “God of Thunder,” was never apprehensive nor anxious.

“That was the rage of battle.”

“Ah,” I responded, looking away. “Yes, I see-”

“How else could I have fought my way through a hundred warriors and pull us out alive?”

Was this how he remembered that day?

“Euh,” I began. “As I recall, I was the one who veiled us in smoke to ease our escape.”

He laughed as I explained what occurred, though if it was in fond memory or in belittling, I could not decipher.

“Yes!” He calmed himself, a servant coming forward to obey his order for another drink, a goblet filled with wine and upon a tray. “Some do battle; others just do tricks.”

The servant chuckled. I felt discomfort fill my throat. I turned to him, lifting my hand and exercising my will on the cup. I laughed in amusement as snakes emerged from the goblet, frightening the man.

Why were people amused of such creatures? Some were poisonous, others harmless; yet all of them wanted respect and would give it in turn if they felt it was earned.

“Loki,” Thor mused distraughtly, gazing down at the goblet, snakes, and tray on the floor. “Now that was just a waste of good wine.”

“Oh, just a bit of fun.” I nodded to the servant. “Ay, my friend?” I waved my hand again, erasing the snakes from this plane and letting the rather jumpy servant pick up the silverware and goblet.

I felt no remorse, as Thor chuckled as well. We both found amusement in that; after all, it was only a trick.

As we straightened ourselves again, another servant, a member of the Guard, brought forward a helmet to Thor. I had one, with two horns ascending from where my forehead was covered by the metal. Thor’s was not as flamboyant, but it had a set of interesting features on it.

“Oh, nice feathers,” I commented.

He chuckled and turned to me. “Oh, you don’t really want to start this again, do you? Cow?”

“I was being sincere.”

“You are incapable of sincerity.”

“Am I?” Am I?

“Yes.”

I looked at him, and my heart panged with sickness once more. This trick that I had planned could benefit my brother… Whatever action he took, that would solidify my image of my brother.

Certainly after this, he would make a fine king, one of wisdom and justice.

“I’ve looked forward to this day as long as you have. You’re my brother and my friend. Sometimes I’m envious, but never doubt that I love you.”

Thor… please do not disappoint me. I am sincere…

He brought up a hand to lay it on the spot where my neck meets my skull, holding it in an affectionate grasp that only spoke of thanks and love. He can show this affection to me; he will be able to show it to others! Surely, yes! He shall be a just king, who thinks of his words and values silence, as he is doing now.

These were my thoughts.

“Thank you,” he told me. I felt a bit of boyishness, or perhaps a pining for my toddler years, build up inside of me, as he began to pull away.

“Now give us a kiss.” Thor chuckled, holding out a finger to me as though he were lightly chastising a child.

“Stop it.” I began to laugh along with him.

Thor quieted himself shortly, however. He looked down at his helmet with anxiety.

“How do I look?”

I turned to him again, sizing him up.

“Like a king.”  
[4]

* * *

I turned and walked from the Bifrost, my heart light. Thor was gone.

Yes.

That was what I had wanted, surely. With Thor gone, I could protect Asgard, better it. Father would bring Thor home and Thor would stand beside him, no longer the centre of attention and no longer a threat to them.

I did not think that Thor would be so easily goaded into battle. Yet he had succumbed and put us all in danger. He’s growing to be such a menace to our kingdom.

As much I loved Thor, my dear brother… I could not see him destroy himself.

“Loki?” I turned to see Father, following me on Sleipnir. The young horse came close to me, the child pressing his nose to my hand. Father merely thought of it as  familiarity and love, as he found me raising the equine alone one day.

If only he knew…

“Yes, Father?”

“I feel… off-put. What else happened on Jotunheim that seems to upset the World’s Tree?”

I blinked. Yggdrasil was most likely upset by the banishment of Odin’s son-

Odin’s son?

My brother. Why would I think of him as…

Unless…

“Do not worry, Father. Perhaps the Tree only shows concern towards your approaching Sleep in these trying times?” He held his gaze towards me only a fraction longer than what I was comfortable with, yet he did break his focus and gently urged Sleipnir to leave my hand alone and to go back towards the palace.

“Perhaps so, Loki. Perhaps it is so.” His parting words hurt me… much the way that the touch of the Jotun on my left arm has hurt my certainty of my life.

* * *

_I lay my head on Thor’s firm chest as I  listened to the soothing rhythm of his heart. Thor’s arms perfectly enveloped my small form as our breathing slowly became synchronized. I felt safe. My brother would always have kept me safe like this._

_T_ _he movement of his chest paralleled the sway of a vessel at sea. Thor moved his hand and ran his fingers through my hair, stimulating my senses._

_I let out a sigh of content._

_This was my brother, who would always be with me, would keep me safe from the monsters that hid themselves in the dark, and only needed me for companionship. Women are not necessary, always taking up a man’s time when he was truly a Warrior at heart, not a house-maid, answering to every beck and call of a wife who would submit stupidly to him, nor a woman that would defy and attempt to belittle him. And yet…_

_I did not know the man that showed no concern for others, who was so full of pride and resentment, longing to please Father. It was as though he was a lap-dog, turning and jumping through obstacles for treats and praise. Did he not see his blessings? Did he no longer think me worthy for being his younger sibling? Did he not see his faults?_

_“Because you cannot see your own, Loki.”_

_Thor was no longer near me. I sat up and looked around for him, as it was indeed his voice that had spoken. I looked up and there he was, upon the clouds, looking down at me._

_“Own, Thor?”_

_“Your faults,” he spoke, his voice akin to the thunder that he called with Mjolnir. “Such childishness, seeking my throne!”_

_My heart panged. “Thor, your foolishness would destroy Asgard! You would lead our realm to war with the Jötunns who have done no crime but exist! Despite my love for you, brother, I will not let you ruin yourself, tarnish your strength-”_

_“But I would be regarded as powerful, Loki, aside from my faults.” He smirked down, Mjolnir in his grip and his eyes looking for blood. “And you would be banished…_

_“Jötunn.”_

_Ice trailed down my spine. I felt the land quake beneath me and a blue-skinned arm, claws brandished, laid its hand upon my face._

_Sparks shot in my vision, a scene in my mind’s eye. I attempted to close my eyes, but it was of no use. Emblazoned in my eyes was cloth._   
_Cloth surrounded me, shielding the sight of me. Perhaps it was because I was not to be looked upon, or the person that carried me was protecting me…_

_“… Child!” The word, one shouted in such proximity to my ears, came from a female voice. It was strange… It was like Mother’s voice, yet from a different throat. This person cared for me, such love in her bosom that her heart beat for me; I could feel it, let it fill my lungs and live off of it._

_Suddenly, we enter a large structure, a temple possibly. We are pulled down by the ground’s attraction, the person letting go as though it was unwilling, and I land in something, a liquid. Through my little eyes of this possessed body, I saw the liquid to be red. The deepest hue of the colour was absorbing quickly into the cloth that surrounded me and I made a sound of fright, of horror._

_I was crying.  I now knew what was occurring._

_I was seeing the world through an infant’s eyes. This body did not, however, feel strange to me. I knew the capabilities of this body and what it was lacking with such familiarity, should this not have been me?_

_Pain coursed through me and I would not stop sobbing, this useless sobbing that was my only way of communication. It was frustrating! Where was Mother! Father! Where were the people that cared for me?_

_“Small…”_

_I open my eyes, for I had closed them as the smell of blood, slowly coagulating in my blanket, irritated my nose and made me ignore all else as it overwhelmed my senses._

_A man who had the same colour of blood on his face, where his eye should have been. The cloth had been pulled away from my face and it was warmer, the air, than it had been before. The scent was still unpleasant, but it was less than before, my body held above the blood by this person. He held him firmly on one arm, murmuring little words to me. This person was having the same aura of caring, mercy emanate from his soul. He had white hair and a pale face, not like my own._

_I waved my hands at him and I saw the hue as a deep, rich blue._

_The body I inhabited currently… was that of a Jötunn infant._

_“… Loki.”_

_I looked up at the man again, with my own eyes, not the infant’s… and Odin was smiling down at me, with a look for caring, mercy…_

_And perhaps the smallest bit of sympathy._

_“That shall be your name.”_

* * *

I sat up, drenched in sweat, from my bed. My stomach churned and I dizzily made three steps to where a sick bowl sat in the off chance that I fell ill, emptying my belly’s contents into the glossy porcelain.

The putrid scent of acid filled my nose and it reminded me of the blood that had been spilt in my dream… I felt fear from the colour red, I noted as I passed my bed, covered in scarlet cloth. I tore at the fabric, feeling my body warmth from it and only sickened as I was reminded of the warmth of sanguine liquid soaking into me, the blanket that swaddled me.

A memory, if what I feared was true.

* * *

The only thing that magic-users are to desire, my teachers told me, was the truth.

Why am I denied it?  

Why am I so different?

I thought these things as I arrived at the Weapons vault, heart eager and alight with passion. I wanted the truth. Answers!

Why do I not feel the same love that I felt from the woman who carriedme before Father did in my dream?

Am I broken?

As I place my hands on the Tesseract, the Cube that the Jötunns wanted and lusted over, I stared in a disturbed sense of acceptance as my hands became blue. I felt - felt - the colour spread under my armour, up my arms and even over my face. I closed my eyes and I could feel it there as well.

Red, the colour of blood and heat.

Am I deformed, twisted into a thing that cannot beloved?

Am I a creature, whose blue skin and red eyes made it a monster?

As I heard steps descend the stairs that led to the Weapons Chamber, I voiced my concerns aloud.

“Am I cursed?”

“No.”  

“What am I?”

“You’re my son,” he said simply. That was not… Not what I wanted to hear.

“What more than that?” 

I no longer accepted Father’s deceit. The finality of the thought hit me, and it spurred me to continue.

“The Casket wasn’t the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?”

“No,” he paused. “In the aftermath of the battle, I went into the temple and I found a baby. Small, for a Giant’s offspring. Abandoned, suffering, and left to die. Laufey’s son.”

“Laufey’s son,” I repeated as though saying it aloud would make it bearable.

The being that had been almost too hasty in taking advantage of my offer, an offer to bring his realm to greatness again, to destroy the home I was raised in, was the one who spawned me? Why would…  
For what reason was I here?

“Yes.”

“Why? You were knee-deep in Jotun blood.  _Why_  would you take me?”

I could have had another life - one I was meant to have. Taken from me. Father must have had an honourable reason… or was it honourable, truly? To take an infant from the bloodied temple that it was most likely raised in, taken from the warm arms of what could have been a mother… When would I have learnt of this? It was mine to know, but should I have learnt it then? An ancient lesson, I realised. The spoils of war, the ones that held most value, were those that held purpose for a future date.

What purpose do I serve?

“You were an innocent child.”

That was his reason?  To use my innocence as an advantage?

“No. You took me for a purpose. What was it?”

Father fell silent. 

“TELL ME!” The tears unwillingly spilled down my cheeks. I was not weak! I could never be weak again. To be weak would mean I could slip under the veil that Odin had crafted for me my entire lifetime.

I could not go back.

“I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day. Bring about an alliance. Bring about a permanent peace. Through you.”

“ _What_?”

His eyes held some emotion. Pity.

“But those plans no longer matter.”

“So I am no more than another stolen relic, locked up here until you might have use of me.” My  breaths came in short pants.

“Why do you twist my words?”

“You could have told me what I was from the beginning! Why didn’t you?!”

“You’re my son. I wanted only to protect you from the truth.”

That same pity! I am not an injured beast that needs to be put out of its misery!

“What, because I-I am the monster that parents tell their children about at night?!”

“Don’t…” Father began to sit as if exhausted from listening to me for so long. Father never would tire of listening to Thor’s difficulties.

“You know, it all makes sense now! Why you favoured Thor all these years! Because no matter how much you claim to love me, you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the throne of Asgard!”

By the time I realised, it was too late. Father had fallen into the Odinsleep.

All the bitterness… It left me empty. It left me pining for something to fill it. Thor, Mother… Father, their love, the one so delicately fabricated for this plan, could no longer sate me. It filled my years with joy, however. Experiences that I could truthfully say, even with my three tongues, that I enjoyed. [5]

I could be merciful…

Just this once.

“Guards! Somebody, help!”

Just… once.

As the guards came and took him away, I let go of him, letting his armour slip from my grasp.

He had donned his armour just to speak to me.

**Author's Note:**

> [1] Poetic Edda: Poem Völuspá, Stanza 19le  
> [2] Uvitende - Norwegian translation for “Unaware”  
> [3] Hveðrungr - One of the names for “Loki”  
> [4] One of Tom Hiddleston’s favourite scenes that was ultimately cut from the film Thor  
> [5] Three tongues = a form of the phrase “silver tongue”; the ability to lie


End file.
